


Advent

by hutchabelle



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Advent, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, F/M, Holidays, Light Angst, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Real Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27775438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchabelle/pseuds/hutchabelle
Summary: Advent is a four part season of longing for a much anticipated event. Peeta Mellark wants only Katniss Everdeen, and the wait is worth it.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77
Collections: The Everlark Games Christmas Challenge 2016





	Advent

**Author's Note:**

> The Advent Season is the first year of the Christian liturgical calendar and is marked by the four weeks preceding Christmas. They are often themed as hope, peace, joy, and love. Peeta’s patience and willingness to wait is inspires me. This story is a tribute to one of his most endearing qualities.
> 
> Originally written for The Everlark Games Christmas Challenge 2016

_Hope (1994)_

There’s nothing more painful than the attribute of hope. Something about the way it winds inside you and keeps you from giving up is both a godsend and a life sentence from hell.

The problem is that I’m one of those people who can’t turn it off. I go to bed every night with my soul crushed from loneliness, my cheek aching from the slap from my mother’s hand, my heart broken because my brothers tease me for my unending cheerfulness. When the day ends, hope is gone.

But when I wake the next morning, there it is again—staring at me like a cat eyes its prey.

It would be easier if I didn’t feel it. I think I could make it through life just fine with the expectation that some good things will happen interspersed with a few tragedies. That seems to be the way of it for most people anyway. I don’t know why I think I should be any different, but that nagging hopefulness festers inside me, ready to burst forth at any moment and strangle me with optimism. It’s the worst sort of irritation.

“Peeta, I need your help,” Dad calls from the ovens, and I wipe my hands on my apron. “Can you pull the cheese buns from oven one and make sure the gingerbread cookies are in the boxes for the winter carnival?”

“Sure. Not a problem.”

The tray is heavy, and the smell of asiago and mozzarella wafts upward until my mouth waters. This particular treat always reminds me of the girl I’ve known since Kindergarten. She has silver eyes and dark hair that’s bound in a braid. I’ve wanted to untangle the plaits and wrap my fingers in that luscious silkiness since I first felt the exhilarating tug of attraction.

Her name is Katniss, and she loves cheese buns. They’re her favorite, and she is mine.

She kissed me once—just a peck on the cheek in fifth grade when I brought her a loaf of bread after her father unexpectedly passed. We didn’t say a word to each other. I’ve always been too tongue-tied around her to form anything coherent in her presence, and she rarely speaks anyway. It’s not surprising she barely kept it together after losing a parent.

The day she leaned into me and pressed her lips to my cheek was the day that hope filled me and wouldn’t let go. I dreamed of it for weeks. I relived it every day. I painted the kaleidoscope of happiness the simple touch of her mouth created. Canvas after canvas of oranges and shades of red that depicted my glee that the girl I wanted so much had chosen to bestow her kiss to me.

The weeks passed after that, and Katniss avoided me at school. I didn’t see her outside of classes, but that didn’t stop that tiny blossom of anticipation from blooming until it was a full-fledged case of desire mixed with despair.

Every day without any interaction. Every day the hope I’d talk to her again. Every single day.

* * *

_Peace (2000)_

By the time we’re ready to graduate from high school, hope no longer rules my life. It’s still there, still swimming below the surface, but I’ve accepted that Katniss and I are heading in different directions after our life in the Panem District 12 school system ends. Things have gotten so bad at home since my brothers left that I know it’s necessary for me to leave, and Katniss can’t afford to go.

Two weeks after graduation, I depart our small town and enroll early in Panem State University. I declare a major in social work with a minor in art. The two don’t seem to go together at all, but I know my brushes, watercolors, and charcoals have been the salve that soothe my bruises and cuts. The two subjects are forever married in my mind.

It hurts to leave her behind. We aren’t really friends. We barely talked throughout our entire educational career, but she’s always been there in the back of my mind. The hope that something would come of our connection.

Delly Cartwright, my oldest friend, is the one who finally moves me into the next stage. Two months into the fall semester of my freshman year, she calls to tell me that Katniss has started dating. I don’t ask who. Delly doesn’t volunteer the information.

After a few weeks of tortured nightmares and overly tragic episodes of underage drinking, I wake one morning with a new sensation, that of peace. Yes, I still want things to work with the girl I’ve adored since childhood, but I feel an underlying calm that my life will go on without her.

College turns out to be a good thing. Away from my mother’s backhand, I flourish. My genuine love for people expands into a wide circle of friends. I excel in my classes, and I even find love or something like it a few times with pretty girls who seem to think I’m exactly what they want. None of them have the same platinum eyes as the girl who flits through my dreams. Most of them are blonde like me. All of them are sweet. None of them hold a candle to her.

Still, I accept that our paths aren’t meant to intersect at this point. I follow mine to a job I love and one that brings me the satisfaction of making the lives of others better. I paint in my spare time. I book a few shows and sell a few paintings. I live with a girlfriend who makes every day better. I avoid my family. I don’t go home.

Life is peaceful, if not a bit boring, but I bask in it for the season. That’s what I need after years of abuse and no confidence. I start thinking about marriage and building a life and family with my girlfriend. I look at engagement rings and plan how I’ll ask her.

I’m on my way to the jewelry store to pick up _the_ ring when I duck into a coffee shop. I usually drink tea, but for some reason, I ask for hot chocolate and a cheese bun. Memories of Katniss sweep through me until I can’t breathe. Gasping for air, I stumble to the sidewalk and realize the tranquility of the past few years won’t last if I don’t give it one more shot. After a fairly amicable breakup and a tearful goodbye with a girl who’ll never be enough, I pack my car and drive home for Christmas.

No matter what happens, I know I deserve a chance to tell Katniss how much I’ve always admired her, how much I’ve always wanted to get to know her. I need a peace that lasts for the rest of my life, and I know I won’t have it if I don’t see her again before asking another woman to take the spot I’ve always wanted her to have.

* * *

_Joy (2007)_

It only takes three days before I see her wandering the streets of District 12 with her younger sister who I hear has come home from college for the holidays. Still beautiful and lithe, Katniss moves down the street like a dream. Joy bursts inside me at the sight of her, and I can’t stop the grin that cracks my face when I catch her eye. She pauses, and then raises her hand briefly in acknowledgement. Prim, her sister, elbows her and motions toward me, but Katniss stubbornly shakes her head. After a few minutes of watching the heated exchange, I cross the street and approach them.

“Katniss, Prim, it’s so good to see you both. It’s been ages,” I offer as calmly and warmly as possible with my heart dancing in my chest.

“Peeta, welcome home,” she answers, and I feel like I’ve stepped onto dry land after a year at sea. My world grinds to a halt and centers on her. Prim fades into the background, and I lean in to hug Katniss to me. She smells like pine needles and fresh snow, and her breath on my cheek makes my knees melt.

At Prim’s insistence, we go for coffee, which I drink just to be with her, and it goes so well I ask her to dinner. Dinner turns into a movie date the next week, and soon we’re inseparable. My happiness knows no bounds. Birds sing and rainbows streak the sky. Flowers bloom in every crevice, and darkness flees when I look at her. I’ve been happy before, but this joy, this irrepressible happiness and contentment, colors my world in the orangey-pink of a sunset.

The feeling I get from being with her is my favorite color.

Six months later, I propose. When she agrees to marry me, I cry tears of joy that reflect in her gray eyes. I marry her the next Christmas Eve because she’s all I’ve ever wanted for Christmas and every other day of the year as well. I wake up to her the morning after our wedding night. She’s wrapped, almost swaddled, in white sheets that caress her olive skin. I kiss her until she stirs. When she does, our bodies intertwine and press together. We make love until we’re too tired to move.

We construct grand plans for our future that cause my heart to burst with happiness. We decide to wait a few years before we try for kids. Katniss has been Prim’s surrogate mother for far too long, and I want her to enjoy the opportunity to be young and carefree with only our relationship to build. She seems to worry I might not be okay with that in the long run, but I don’t mind. I want kids of my own, but I’ve always wanted Katniss more. I can wait. I have been for years.

Four years into our marriage, Katniss makes me a father. As I hold my two girls close, I know nothing can ever top this moment.

* * *

_Love (2016)_

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” I murmur into her ear. She leans back into me, and I wrap my arms around her waist. She sighs, and I kiss her neck. She’s bathed in the soft lights from our Christmas tree, and I grin remembering her antics as we assembled a doll house for our daughter and a tricycle for our son just an hour prior.

“You love me. Real or not real?” I murmur against the shell of her ear.

“Real,” she breathes before turning in my arms and raising her lips to mine. “So real.”

Her mouth slides against mine, and I lift her and cross to the couch. Her dark locks tumble out of her signature braid and contrast with the cream colored cushions. She watches me with a hooded gaze as I tug my sweater over my head. It falls in a green pool of wool at my feet, and it’s joined quickly by my discarded jeans.

When I’m naked and straining for her, Katniss licks her lips and beckons me to her. She caresses me as I undress her slowly and treat every inch of exposed skin with my tongue. By the time she’s completely bare, she’s quivering and whispering my name.

We make love quietly, intently, gently, as the fire flickers and paints with us with fire. We burn together—harder, faster—until we erupt together in a blinding, radiant explosion that rivals the sun. After, we cling together; arms trembling, mouths searching, hands caressing.

“Peeta, did you remember to pack the cookies for tomorrow night?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” I answer with a kiss to each of her eyelids.

“How late do you think the kids will sleep tomorrow morning?” she asks with a yawn as her fingers trail down my torso.

“Mmm, maybe seven? If we’re lucky.”

She nuzzles against my neck and nips at my jaw. “Do you think we should ask Prim to take the kids for a night next weekend? I’d like to sleep in front of the fire with you before the tree comes down.”

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?”

“No, and it would be a very merry Christmas to you.”

“A night alone with my wife in front of the fire? I’ll make a romantic dinner and get some champagne. We can celebrate our anniversary in style—naked and panting and with a toast.”

After another kiss, she rises from the couch and slips on her clothes. “Let’s go check on the kids before we go to sleep. It’s my favorite part of Christmas Eve.”

We stand in the doorway of our children’s bedroom and observe the rise and fall of our son’s and daughter’s chests. Tomorrow morning the house will be full of squeals of laughter and delight.

It’s taken two decades of hope, peace, and joy to finally understand the full capacity of love.

My heart is full.


End file.
